


Rosy Cheeks

by pranxtorr



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, literally so short, race of inquisitor not specified, really short drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pranxtorr/pseuds/pranxtorr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colors, the Inquisitor thought, were not the same as they used to be.  The breach had changed everything, even things of so little importance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosy Cheeks

_Colors_ , the Inquisitor thought, _were not the same as they used to be_.  She stared out at the Frostbacks from the battlements, drinking in the view.  It held enough hues to make any art gallery seem dull, and perhaps a younger her would have been able to appreciate the beauty.  The breach had changed everything, even things of so little importance.

She was willing to bet that that certain shade of green would be able to successfully make her stomach turn till the day she died.  It was the fade, the rifts, the breach, the blighted mark on her hand.

Then there was red lyrium.  Chaos and corruption, death and despair, all associated with one color.

Blue or grey?  Thanks to the Grey Wardens, those were ruined as well.

White then.  But after her escape from Haven, the very sight of it brought memories of aching muscles dragging her through waist deep snow, numb skin still managing to feel pain as the wind bit at every inch of her, and cold, so much cold.

The same could be said for yellows and browns, only with the desert instead of a frozen wasteland.  Endless acres of sand dunes and exposed rock, the heat unbearable.  Would she ever be able to get all the sand out of her clothes?  She almost preferred the snow.

And black, which constantly lay behind her eyelids, a prelude to the nightmares that came as unwelcome guests every single night.  It was probably the worst color of all.

But pink?  Pink was safe.  It was the color of a good meal waiting for her after a particularly arduous journey, the nugs deep underground that reminded her that not everything expected something of her, the first light of day that promised that the darkness would not always last.

“Inquisitor?” Cullen asked, as he crept up beside her on the battlements.  A rosy blush donned his cheeks when he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “Are you alright?”

_Yes_ , she thought, _pink was a perfect color_.


End file.
